to it—that is, it must withdraw from this relationship into itself and therein recognize its unity. But likewise, having gone into itself, it has now from itself to beget its object and give itself the content which it sends forth from itself. Stoicism is only this return of mind into itself, positing the unity of itself and the object, and recognizing the harmony; but not the going forth again to the extension of the real knowledge of a content from itself. We do not find Stoicism getting any farther, for it stops short at making the consciousness of this unity its object, without developing it in the slightest; thus reason remains the simple form which does not go on to the distinction of the content itself. Hence the formalism of this celebrated standard, and of the standpoint from which all truth of content is judged, rests farther in the fact that the thought of thought, as what is highest, finds this content indeed conformable to itself and appropriates it, since it transforms it into the universal, but its determinations are given. For if thought predominates, still it is always universal form alone. On account of this universality thought yields nothing but the form of identity with itself; the ultimate criterion is thus only the formal identity of the thought which discovers harmony. But it may be asked, with what? For there no absolute self-determination, no content that proceeds from thought as such is to be found; and hence everything may harmonize with my thought. The criterion of the Stoics is consequently only the principle of contradiction; yet when we remove the contradiction from absolute reality, it is indeed self-identical, but for that very reason empty. The harmony must be a higher one; there must be harmony with self in what is other than self, in content, in determination; and thus it must be harmony with harmony.
In accordance with this recognition of the principle of the Stoics, both their logic and their morality is judged; neither the one nor the other arrives at being immanent free science. We have already remarked (p. 241) that they also occupied themselves with logical definitions, and since they made abstract thought the principle, they have brought formal logic to great perfection. Logic is hence to them logic in the sense that it expresses the activity of the understanding as of conscious understanding; it is no longer as with Aristotle, at least in regard to the categories, undecided as to whether the forms of the understanding are not at the same time the realities of things; for the forms of thought are set forth as such for themselves. Then along with this comes in, for the first time, the question respecting the harmony of thought and object or the demand that an appropriate content of thought be shown. However, since all given content may be taken into thought and posited as something thought without therefore losing its determinate character, and this determinate character contradicts and does not support the simplicity of thought, the taking of it up does not help at all; for its opposite may also be taken up and set forth as something thought. The opposition is thereby, however, only in another form; for instead of the content being in outward sensation as something not pertaining to thought and not true, as it formerly was, it now pertains to thought, but is unlike it in its determinateness, seeing that thought is the simple. Thus what was formerly excluded from the simple Notion, now comes into it again; this separation between activity of the understanding and object must indeed be made, but likewise the unity in the object as such has to be shown, if it is only something thought. Hence Scepticism cast up this opposition more especially to the Stoics, and the Stoics amongst themselves had always to improve on their conceptions. As we have just seen (p. 250) in Sextus Empiricus, they did not quite know whether they should define conception as impression or alteration, or in some other way. Now if this conception is admitted into that which directs the soul, into pure consciousness, Sextus further asks (since thought _in abstracto_ is the simple and self-identical which, as incorporeal, is neither passive nor active), How can an alteration, an impression, be made on this? Then the thought-forms are themselves incorporeal. But, according to the Stoics, only the corporeal can make an impression or bring about an alteration.[134] That is to say, on the one hand, because corporeal and incorporeal are unlike they cannot be one; and, on the other, incorporeal thought-forms, as capable of no alteration, are not the content, for this last is the corporeal only.
If the thought-forms could in fact have attained the form of content, they would have been a content of thought in itself. But as they were they had value as laws of thought (λεκτά)[135] merely. The Stoics indeed had a system of immanent determinations of thought, and actually did a great deal in this direction; for Chrysippus specially developed and worked out this logical aspect of things, and is stated to have been a master in it (_supra_, pp. 240, 241). But this development took a very formal direction; there are the ordinary well-known forms of inference, five of which are given by Chrysippus, while others give sometimes more and sometimes fewer. One of them is the hypothetical syllogism through remotion, “When it is day it is light, but now it is night and hence it is not light.” These logical forms of thought are by the Stoics held to be the unproved that requires no proof; but they are likewise only formal forms which determine no content as such. The wise man is specially skilful in dialectic, we are told by the Stoics, for all things, both physical and ethical, are perceived through a knowledge of logic.[136] But thus they have ascribed this perception to a subject, without stating who this wise man is (p. 250). Since objective grounds by which to determine the truth are wanting, the ultimate decision is attributed to the will of the subject; and this talk about the wise man consequently has its ground in nothing but the indefiniteness of the criterion, from which we cannot get to the determination of content.
It would be superfluous to speak further of their logic any more than of their theory of judgments, which in part coincides with it, and in part is a grammar and a rhetoric; by it no real scientific content can be reached. For this logic is not, like Plato’s dialectic, the speculative science of the absolute Idea; but, as formal logic, as we saw above (p. 254), it is science as the firm, secure, unalterable comprehension of reasons, and stops short at the perception of the same. This logical element, whose essence consists pre-eminently in escaping to the simplicity of the conception to that which is not in opposition to itself nor falls into contradiction, obtains the upper hand. This simplicity, which has not negativity and content in itself, requires a given content which it may not abrogate—but consequently it cannot thus attain to a genuine “other” through itself. The Stoics have constituted their logic often in the most isolated fashion; the principal point that is established here is that the objective corresponds to thought, and they investigated this thought more closely. If in a manner it is quite correct to say that the universal is the true, and that thought has a definite content that must also be concrete, the main difficulty, which is to deduce the particular determination from the universal, so that in this self-determination it may remain identical with itself, has not been solved by the Stoics: and this the Sceptics brought to consciousness. This is the point of view most important in the philosophy of the Stoics; it thus showed itself in their physics also.
3. ETHICS.
Since the theory of mind, the doctrine of knowledge, came before us in the investigation of the criterion, we have, in the third and last place, to speak of the morality of the Stoics, to which is due their greatest fame, but which does not rise above this formal element any more than what precedes, although it cannot be denied that in presenting it they have taken a course which seems very plausible to the popular conception, but which in fact is to a great extent external and empiric.
a. In order, in the first place, to find the definition of virtue, Chrysippus gives some good expositions of practical ethics which Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 85, 86) quotes at considerable length; they are psychological in character and in them Chrysippus establishes his formal harmony with himself. For according to him the Stoics say: “The first desire (ὁρμή) of the animal is for self-preservation, because nature from the beginning reconciled each existence with itself. This first object innate in every animal” (immanent desire) “is thus the harmony of the animal with itself, and the consciousness of the same,” the self-consciousness through which “the animal is not alienated from itself. Thus it repels what is injurious and accepts what is serviceable to it.” This is Aristotle’s conception of the nature of adaptation to an end, in which, as the principle of activity, both the opposite and its sublation are contained. “Enjoyment is not the first object, for it” (the sense of satisfaction) “is only for the first time added when the nature of an animal that seeks itself through itself, receives into itself that which is in conformity with its harmony with itself.” This is likewise worthy of approbation: self-consciousness, enjoyment, is just this return into self, the consciousness of this unity in which I enjoy something and thereby have my unity as this individual in the objective element. The case is similar in regard to man; his end is self-preservation, but with a conscious end, with consideration, according to reason. “In plants nature operates without voluntary inclination (ὁρμῆς) or sense-perception, but some things in us take place in the same manner as in plants.” For in the plant there also is the seed-containing conception, but it is not in it as end, nor as its object, for it knows nothing about it. “In animals inclination comes in; in them nature makes their impulses conformable to their first principle;” _i.e._ the end of inclination is simply the first principle of their nature, and that through which they make for their own preservation. “Rational creatures likewise make nature their end, but this is to live according to reason, for reason becomes in them the artist who produces inclination,” _i.e._ it makes a work of art in man from what in the animal is desire merely. To live in accordance with nature is thus, to the Stoics, to live rationally.
This now appears somewhat like certain receipts given by the Stoics for the purpose of discovering right motive forces in regard to virtue. For their principle put generally is this: “Men must live in conformity with nature, _i.e._ with virtue; for to it” (rational) “nature leads us.” That is the highest good, the end of everything—a most important form in Stoic morality, which appears in Cicero as _finis bonorum_ or _summum bonum_. With the Stoics right reason and the securing of it on its own account, is the highest principle. But here, too, we immediately see that we are thereby merely led round in a circle in a manner altogether formal, because virtue, conformity to nature, and reason, are only determined through one another. Virtue consists in living conformably with nature, and what is conformable to nature is virtue. Likewise thought must further determine what is in conformity with nature, but conformity with nature again is that alone which is determined through reason. The Stoics further say, according to Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 87, 88) “To live according to nature is to live according to that which experience teaches us of the laws both of universal nature and of our own nature, by doing nothing which universal law forbids; and that law is the right reason which pervades everything, being the same with Jupiter, the disposer (καθηγεμόνι) of the existing system of things. The virtue of the happy man is when everything occurs according to the harmony of the genius (δαίμονος) of each individual with reference to the will of the disposer of all things.” Thus everything remains as it was in a universal formalism.
We must throughout allow to the Stoics that virtue consists in following thought, _i.e._ the universal law, right reason; anything is moral and right only in as far as a universal end is in it fulfilled and brought into evidence. This last is the substantial, the essential nature of a relationship, and in it we have that which is really in thought alone. The universal which must be the ultimate determination in action, is, however, not abstract, but the universal in this relationship, just as, for example, in property the particular is placed on one side. Because man, as a man of thought and culture, acts according to his perception, he subordinates his impulses and desires to the universal; for they are individual. There is in each human action an individual and particular element; but there is a distinction as to whether the particular as such is solely insisted upon or whether in this particular the universal is secured. It is to the securing of this universal that the energy of Stoicism is directed. But this universal has still no content and is undetermined, and thereby the Stoic doctrines of virtue are incomplete, empty, meaningless and tedious. Virtue indeed is commended in a forcible, lively and edifying manner, but as to what this universal law of virtue is, we have no indications given us.
b. The other side as regards the good is external existence, and the agreement of circumstances, of external nature, with the end aimed at by man. For although the Stoics have expressed the good as being conformity with law, in relation to the practical will, they yet defined it, according to Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 94, 95), as being at the same time the useful, “either absolutely and immediately useful or not contrary to utility,” so that generally speaking the useful is, as it were, the accident of virtue. “The Stoics likewise distinguished manifold good into good having reference to the soul, and external good; the former indicates virtues and their actions; the latter the fact of pertaining to a noble country, having a virtuous friend, and so on. In the third place it is neither external nor is it a matter of self-consciousness alone, when the self-same man is virtuous and happy.” These conclusions are quite good. Morality does not require to look so coldly on what concerns utility, for every good action is in fact useful, _i.e._ it has actuality and brings forth something good. An action which is good without being useful is no action and has no actuality. That which in itself is useless in the good is its abstraction as being a non-reality. Men not only may, but must have the consciousness of utility; for it is true that it is useful to know the good. Utility means nothing else but that men have a consciousness respecting their actions. If this consciousness is blameworthy, it is still more so to know much of the good of one’s action and to consider it less in the form of necessity. Thus the question was raised as to how virtue and happiness are related to one another, a theme of which the Epicureans have also treated. Here it was, as in more recent times, regarded as the great problem to discover whether virtue gives happiness, taken altogether by itself, whether the conception of happiness is included in its conception. That union of virtue and happiness, as the mean, is thus rightly represented as being perfect, neither pertaining only to self-consciousness nor to externality.
α. In order to be able to give a general answer to this question, we most recollect what was said above of the principle of self-preservation, according to which virtue has to do with the rational nature. The fulfilment of its end is happiness as finding itself realized, and as the knowledge or intuitive perception of itself as an external—a harmony of its Notion or its genius with its Being or its reality. The harmony of virtue with happiness thus means that the virtuous action realizes itself in and for itself, man becomes in it an immediate object to himself, and he comes to the perception of himself as objective, or of the objective as himself. This rests in the conception of action and particularly of good action. For the bad destroys reality and is opposed to self-preservation; but the good is what makes for its self-preservation and effectuates it—the good end is thus the content that realizes itself in action. But in this general answer to that question, properly speaking, the consciousness of the implicitly existent end has not sufficiently exactly the signification of virtue, nor has action proceeding from the same exactly the signification of virtuous action, neither has the reality which it attains the signification of happiness. The distinction rests in the fact that the Stoics have merely remained at this general conception, and set it forth immediately as actuality; in it however, the conception of virtuous action is merely expressed, and not reality.
β. A further point is that just because the Stoics have remained at this position, the opposition between virtue and happiness immediately enters in, or, in abstract form, that between thought and its determination. These opposites are with Cicero _honestum_ and _utile_, and their union is the question dealt with.[137] Virtue, which is living in accordance with the universal law of nature, is confronted by the satisfaction of the subject as such in his particularity. The two sides are, in the first place, this particularity of the individual, which, in the most varied aspects has existence in me as the abstract “this,” for example, in the pre-supposition of determinate inclinations; and here we have pleasure and enjoyment in which my existence harmonizes with the demands of my particularity. In the second place, I, as the will that fulfils law, am only the formal character which has to carry out the universal; and thus, as willing the universal, I am in accord with myself as thinking. The two now come into collision, and because I seek the one satisfaction or the other, I am in collision with myself, because I am also individual. As to this we may hear many trivial things said, such as that things often go badly with the virtuous and well with the wicked, and that the latter is happy, &c. By going well all external circumstances are understood, and on the whole the content is quite uninteresting, for it is constituted by the attainment of commonplace ends, points of view and interests. Such at once show themselves, however, to be merely contingent and external; hence we soon get past this standpoint in the problem, and thus external enjoyment, riches, noble birth, &c., do not accord with virtue or happiness. The Stoics indeed said: “The implicitly good is the perfect” (that which fulfils its end) “in accordance with the nature of the rational; now virtue is such, but enjoyment, pleasure and such-like are its accessories”[138]—the end of the satisfaction of the individual on his own account. Thus these may be the concomitants of virtue, although it is a matter of indifference whether they are so or not, for since this satisfaction is not end, it is equally a matter of indifference if pain is the concomitant of virtue. Conduct which is according to reason only, thus further contains man’s abstract concentration within himself, and the fact that the consciousness of the true enters into him, so that he renounces everything that belongs to immediate desires, feelings, &c.
In this quite formal principle of holding oneself in a pure harmony with oneself of a merely thinking nature, there now rests the power of becoming indifferent to every particular enjoyment, desire, passion and interest. Because this following of the determinations of reason is in opposition to enjoyment, man should seek his end or satisfaction in nothing else than in the satisfaction of his reason, in satisfying himself in himself, but not in anything outwardly conditioned. Hence much has been said by the Stoics in respect of that which pertains to the passions being something that is contradictory. The writings of Seneca and Antoninus contain much that is true in this regard, and they may be most helpful to those who have not attained to the higher degree of conviction. Seneca’s talent must be recognized, but we must also be convinced that it does not suffice. Antoninus (VIII. 7) shows psychologically that happiness or pleasure is not a good. “Regret is a certain self-blame, because something useful has failed, the good must be something useful, and the noble and good man must make the same his interest. But no noble and good man will feel regret that he has fallen short in pleasure; pleasure is thus neither useful nor good. The man who has the desire for glory after his death does not recollect that he who holds him in remembrance himself dies also, and again he who follows this one, until all recollection through these admiring ones who have passed away, has been extinguished.” Even if this independence and freedom is merely formal, we must still recognize the greatness of this principle. However, in this determination of the abstract inward independence and freedom of the character in itself lies the power which has made the Stoics famous; this Stoic force of character which says that man has only to seek to remain like himself, thus coincides with the formal element which I have already given (p. 254). For if the consciousness of freedom is my end, in this universal end of the pure consciousness of my independence all particular determinations of freedom which are constituted by duties and laws, have disappeared. The strength of will of Stoicism has therefore decided not to regard the particular as its essence, but to withdraw itself therefrom; we see on the one hand, that this is a true principle, but on the other, it is at the same time abstract still.
Now because the principle of the Stoic morality professes to be the harmony of mind with itself, what should be done is not to let this remain formal, and therefore not to let what is not contained in this self-contained be any longer shut out of it. That freedom which the Stoics ascribe to man is not without relation to what is other than himself; thus he is really dependent, and under this category happiness really falls. My independence is only one side, to which the other side, the particular side of my existence, hence does not yet correspond. The old question, which at this time again came up, thus concerns the harmony between virtue and happiness. We speak of morality rather than virtue, because that according to which I ought to direct my actions is not, as in virtue, my will, as it has become custom. Morality really contains my subjective conviction that that which I do is in conformity with rational determinations of will, with universal duties. That question is a necessary one, a problem which even in Kant’s time occupied men, and in endeavouring to solve it we must begin by considering what is to be understood by happiness. Much more is afterwards said of that in which satisfaction is to be sought. However, from what is external and exposed to chance we must at once break free. Happiness in general means nothing more than the feeling of harmony with self. That which is pleasing to the senses is pleasing because a harmony with ourselves is therein contained. The contrary and unpleasing is, on the other hand, a negation, a lack of correspondence with our desires. The Stoics have posited as the very essence of enjoyment this harmony of our inner nature with itself, but only as inward freedom and the consciousness, or even only the feeling of this harmony, so that enjoyment such as this is contained in virtue itself. Yet this enjoyment ever remains a secondary matter, a consequence, which in so far as it is so cannot be made end, but should only be considered as an accessory. The Stoics said in this regard that virtue is alone to be sought, but with virtue happiness on its own account is found, for it confers blessing explicitly as such. This happiness is true and imperturbable even if man is in misfortune;[139] thus the greatness of the Stoic philosophy consists in the fact that if the will thus holds together within itself, nothing can break into it, that everything else is kept outside of it, for even the removal of pain cannot be an end. The Stoics have been laughed at because they said that pain is no evil.[140] But toothache and the like are not in question as regards this problem. We cannot but know we are subject to such; pain like this, and unhappiness are, however, two different things. Thus the problem throughout is only to be understood as the demand for a harmony of the rational will with external reality. To this reality there also belongs the sphere of particular existence, of subjectivity, of personality, of particular interests. But of these interests the universal alone truly pertains to this reality, for only in so far as it is universal, can it harmonize with the rationality of the will. It is thus quite right to say that suffering, pain, &c., are no evil, whereby the conformity with myself, my freedom, might be destroyed; I am elevated over such in the union which is maintained with myself, and even if I may feel them, they can still not make me at variance with myself. This inward unity with myself as felt, is happiness, and this is not destroyed by outward evil.
γ. Another opposition is that within virtue itself. Because the universal law of right reason is alone to be taken as the standard of action, there is no longer any really absolutely fixed determination, for all duty is always, so to speak, a particular content, which can plainly be grasped in universal form, without this, however, in any way affecting the content. Because virtue is thus that which is conformable to the real essence or law of things, in a general sense the Stoics called virtue everything, in every department, which is in conformity with law in that department. Hence, Diogenes tells us (VII. 92), they also speak of logical and physical virtues, just as their morality represents individual duties (τὰ καθήκοντα) by passing in review the individual natural relationships in which man stands, and showing what in them is rational.[141] But this is only a kind of quibbling such as we have also seen in Cicero’s case. Thus in as far as an ultimate deciding criterion of that which is good cannot be set up, the principle being destitute of determination, the ultimate decision rests with the subject, Just as before this it was the oracle that decided, at the commencement of this profounder inwardness the subject was given the power of deciding as to what is right. For since Socrates’ time the determination of what was right by the standard of customary morality had ceased in Athens to be ultimate; hence with the Stoics all external determination falls away, and the power of decision can only be placed in the subject as such, which in the last instance determines from itself as conscience. Although much that is elevated and edifying may find its support here, an actual determination is still wanting; hence there is according to the Stoics only one virtue,[142] and the wise man is the virtuous.
c. The Stoics have thus in the third place likewise been in the way of representing an ideal of the wise man which, however, is nothing more than the will of the subject which in itself only wills itself, remains at the thought of the good, because it is good, allows itself in its steadfastness to be moved by nothing different from itself, such as desires, pain, &c., desires its freedom alone, and is prepared to give up all else—which thus, if it experiences outward pain and misfortune, yet separates these from the inwardness of its consciousness. The question of why the expression of rel morality has with the Stoics the form of the ideal of the wise man finds its answer, however, in the fact that the mere conception of virtuous consciousness, of action with respect to an implicitly existent end, finds in individual consciousness alone the element of moral reality. For if the Stoics had gone beyond the mere conception of action for the implicitly existent end, and had reached to the knowledge of the content, they would not have required to express this as a subject. To them rational self-preservation is virtue. But if we ask what it is that is evolved by virtue, the answer is to the effect that it is just rational self-preservation; and thus they have not by this expression got beyond that formal circle. Moral reality is not expressed as that which is enduring, which is evolved and ever evolving itself. And moral reality is just this, to exist; for as nature is an enduring and existent system, the spiritual as such must be an objective world. To this reality the Stoics have, however, not reached. Or we may understand this thus. Their moral reality is only the wise man, an ideal and not a reality—in fact the mere conception whose reality is not set forth.
This subjectivity is already contained in the fact that moral reality, expressed as virtue, thereby immediately presents the appearance of being present only as a quality of the individual. This virtue, as such, in as far as only the moral reality of the individual is indicated, cannot attain to happiness in and for itself, even though happiness, regarded in the light of realization, were only the realization of the individual. For this happiness would be just the enjoyment of the individual as the harmony of existence with him as individual; but with him as individual true happiness does not harmonize, but only with him as universal man. Man must likewise not in the least desire that it should harmonize with him as individual man, that is, he must be indifferent to the individuality of his existence, and to the harmony with the individual as much as to the want of harmony; he must be able to dispense with happiness just as, if he possesses it, he must be free from it; or it is only a harmony of him with himself as a universal. If merely the subjective conception of morality is therein contained, its true relationship is yet thereby expressed; for it is this freedom of consciousness which in its enjoyment rests in itself and is independent of objects,—what we expressed above (p. 264) as the special characteristic of the Stoic morality. Stoic self-consciousness has not here to deal with its individuality as such, but solely with the freedom in which it is